Eggs Over Hard
by sammyiammy
Summary: Katie's faced with a question she never thought she'd have to answer from the mouth of the last person she would expect it from. Nextgen with mentions of George/Katie, Charlie/Katie, and a nearly grown, overly curious kid.


"Mum, did you fuck Uncle George?"

The plate of eggs Katie was carrying shattered upon impact with the floor. Wide-eyed, she reached and turned off the stove's burner, then turned back to face the tiny breakfast table and choked out, "What?"

The stocky boy at the table took another bite of his own untainted eggs and quickly apologized. "Yeah, Mum, I know. No swearing at the table. How about this: you and Uncle George slept together?"

"Go to your room?" tried Katie. Generally she treated the kid more like a roommate who was always slacking off on his share of the rent than like her son. As a result, she wasn't so great at the whole disciplining thing. Her attempts usually ended with her threats being answered with a laugh.

With a cheeky smirk bulging with breakfast, he answered thickly, "No."

"You're a right pain, you know that?" Katie crouched down and, taking care to work around the shards of china, began to scoop the fallen eggs onto a new plate. She was seriously considering still eating them. The floor had been cleaned earlier that week, after all.

"I think you've told me that a few times before, yeah."

A loud, irritated sigh escaped from between her lips. "Why do you think... you know."

"Why do I think you shagged Dad's brother?"

"Meyer. Owen. Bell."

"Sorry, sorry," he said, looking the polar opposite of remorseful. "Anyhow, Grandmum Weasley told me the two of you dated when you were at Hogwarts."

The eggs once again hit the floor. The fall was shorter, so the plate managed to survive, but it did ruin her breakfast plans. "Please tell me she didn't say-"

"No, she didn't." Meyer laughed loudly, breaking most of the tension in the room. Molly Weasley even implying something like that was utterly unimaginable. She tended to avoid mentions of sex like the plague. "But I am seventeen, I know full well how things like that work."

"Don't even go there," warned Katie, a large smile lighting up her face. "In my head you're permanently four years old."

Meyer began to butter a piece of toast, his own smile matching his mum's. He had always looked more like her than anyone else, completely devoid of freckles and with a mess of theoretically straight brown hair. They even had the same oddly placed dimple. "In Dad's I think I'm at least nine."

Snapping like she'd just had the mother of all revelations, Katie said, "That's it. I'm sending you to Romania. Never, ever again will I cook breakfast and get rewarded with an interrogation about my sex life from an ungrateful teenager."

Ignoring the comment entirely, he said slowly, "You never answered the question."

"I can't look at you when you're making that face at me. You look just like an abandoned puppy." What he actually reminded her of was his father when she'd told him they shouldn't get married, but she would never tell Meyer that. Usually they tried to avoid that whole type of conversation. It had never led to anything good. After a few moments more of the face, he looked down and recommenced eating, peeking up at her every few seconds. "Alright. Yeah. I did."

"Jesus, Mum. That's _disgusting_."

He was clearly joking, but Katie tossed an undercooked bit of yolk at him anyhow. It missed, landing in his orange juice instead. When a look of absolute horror appeared on his face, crinkling up his nose and pulling his mouth open, Katie dissolved into giggles. Meyer quickly joined in. Soon they were both double over in laughter.

Leaning up against the oven door and clutching her stomach, Katie regarded her surprise of a kid with an expression that could often be found on the faces of diehard Quidditch mums when the products of their atomic marriages scored a goal. She regretted nothing, she decided. Not even the whole George business.

**Katie, George, Charlie, Molly and their world are all JK Rowling's. Meyer's mine, the little blighter. Thank you for reading!**


End file.
